


Weightless

by Wind_Ryder



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt "For the kisding prompt. #1 Bucky/Wanda, first kiss (Marvel Cinematic Universe, set post-Ultron or later)"</p><p>______</p><p>Seven days after they started traveling together, she tells him something, “Steve loves you.” Bucky flinches. He drops the plate he was holding. It fell to the ground. Shattering. </p><p>Wanda bends without stopping. She folds her shawl up onto her lap, and starts to pick up the pieces. Bucky’s fingers shake. He stares off into the middle distance. “All kinds of love,” she continues. </p><p>Her hand touches his ankle. He startles, steps back, and suddenly, he’s stepping on air. He jolts, flailing. Panic rises within him. </p><p>Then he notices it. Little glowing red lights. They swirl around him. Wrap about his feet and hold him upright. “You were going to hurt yourself,” she tells him. He blinks down at her. He’s never…flown before. He’s floating, and it feels…nice. Unique. He wiggles his feet in the air. He holds his hands to the side, smiling.</p><p>Wanda smiles back. She raises him a little higher. She moves him away from the broken plate. She lets him feel it out. Lets him flutter for a moment, before she gently settles him down. </p><p>Then, she continues picking up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Prompt on tumblr.  
> Feel free to send me requests: http://www.falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com

When they first meet, they’re running for their lives. Bucky chasing after Steve, desperate to keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Just keep going until the end of the line. 

They get through introductions. They get through they “hey—how ya doings”. They make it through a war. The Ant-guy keeps their supplies together. Sharon gets them intel. Sam keeps their heads in one piece. Steve organizes strategy. 

Bucky—Bucky’s told he can just rest. He doesn’t need to get involved. 

He sits someplace quiet and warm, and tries to remain productive. Clean the hide out. Wash the dishes. Make the bed. Fold the clothes. Wash the clothes. Bucky tries not to make them question his usefulness. 

The girl’s a witch. At least, that’s what she calls herself. He doesn’t make eye contact. But he does listen to the others. Her name’s Wanda. Pretty. Witches and their wands. Sounds right. 

She helps him with the cleaning. Sometimes she dries while he washes. She hums sometimes. Quiet melodies he’s never heard. They’re calming. Relaxing. They remind him of his mother. What little of his mother he can remember. 

Seven days after they started traveling together, she tells him something, “Steve loves you.” Bucky flinches. He drops the plate he was holding. It fell to the ground. Shattering. 

Wanda bends without stopping. She folds her shawl up onto her lap, and starts to pick up the pieces. Bucky’s fingers shake. He stares off into the middle distance. “All kinds of love,” she continues. 

Her hand touches his ankle. He startles, steps back, and suddenly, he’s stepping on air. He jolts, flailing. Panic rises within him. 

Then he notices it. Little glowing red lights. They swirl around him. Wrap about his feet and hold him upright. “You were going to hurt yourself,” she tells him. He blinks down at her. He’s never…flown before. He’s floating, and it feels…nice. Unique. He wiggles his feet in the air. He holds his hands to the side, smiling.

Wanda smiles back. She raises him a little higher. She moves him away from the broken plate. She lets him feel it out. Lets him flutter for a moment, before she gently settles him down. 

Then, she continues picking up the pieces. 

He misses it. Misses the weightlessness. Like swimming in the air. Floating is nice. But falling…falling is terrifying. He bites his lip. Not sure what to say. Not sure how to ask if she’ll do it again. 

“Steve loves you,” she repeats. She’s collected all the broken pieces, and deposits them in the trash. Uses magic to scoop up the tiny shards to get rid of them as well. “Even if you don’t do everything perfect…he will not send you away.” Bucky doesn’t know what she wants from him. But she just smiles. Sad. Old eyes on a too young face. “Don’t be scared.” 

* * *

The nightmares are bad. Bucky remembers when he sleeps. The memories roll through his mind like an old picture. Black and white. He sees his mother. His father. He sees the war. He sees Herr Doctor. 

When he wakes up, he does it quietly. Hydra taught him how to be quiet. Taught him how not to make a sound. Bucky wakes up, and he can’t fall back asleep. He slides out from under the covers. He walks to the living room. 

Wanda usually sits there. She sits on the couch. Blanket over her knees. She holds a mug between her palms. Bucky has tears in his eyes from the memory he just witnessed. He rubs his eyes. He wants to apologize, but talking still took so much out of him. Like a muscle that had atrophied. 

Wanda shifts her feet on the couch and he carefully sits across from her. She offers to share the blanket she’s curled under. They spread it between them. Her toes touch his. He flinches, and draws his knees up closer. 

Wanda sips from her cup. “Before…when it was just my brother and I?” she begins. “We couldn’t sleep. Only an hour here or there. After, when Strucker promised to give us strength to avenge our family…we slept better. Knowing we could protect ourselves. We would never be taken advantage of again.” 

Bucky knows that’s not how life works. The more strength you have. The more Hydra gives you, the more they’ll want to take it away. The more they’ll want to attack. “I don’t sleep well anymore,” she finishes. “Pietro…I’m used to him being by my side.” 

Bucky remembers sleeping in the field with Steve and the Commandos. It’s not a strong memory. Not something he can hold on to for any stretch of time. But it’s…it’s his. He remembers digging a foxhole. Remembers Dernier whispering in French. Remembers feeling safe with his brothers at his side. 

Wanda gasps. He pushes the memory away. “I’ve got this watch,” he tells her. She hesitates. Then sets her mug on the table. She lays her head on the arm of the couch. And goes to sleep. 

He watches the window. Watches as the sun comes up. Thinking of family and security. Not happy memories. But peaceful ones. 

* * *

They make a habit of sitting by each other. When he sits with Wanda, she fills him with a sense of peace. She’s been there before. She’s seen what Hydra does. She’s been under their knife. She understands what it’s like to love something that it so bad for you. She understands what Steve can’t: 

Hydra was the only family either of them had for a long time. It’s hard to turn your back on family. 

Wanda tells him stories of her brother. He doesn’t say much in response. Sometimes he thinks about his sisters. She’s quiet when he does. He wonders if she reads his mind. It’s so much easier to know she can just see what he wants to say. Know that the words won’t get broken on his tongue. Know she can see his heart. 

She can see his heart, and all of its horrors, and she still chooses to sit beside him. To share her blanket. To offer him tea. 

At dinner, they’ve taken to sitting shoulder to shoulder. Steve frowns the first time he does it. But then he smiles. He smiles so bright and so wide that Bucky flushes red. He doesn’t know why Steve’s smiling, but he thinks Steve’s being stupid. 

“You should tell him,” Wanda encourages. _  
_

Bucky shrugs. _Tell him what?_

“You think he’s stupid. It’ll make him laugh.” 

_It’ll make him cry._

“Sometimes laughing and crying go hand in hand.” Wanda pats his arm. She’s never afraid to touch him. Never worried how he’ll react. 

She’s better than him. She can defend herself. He can’t hurt her. It’s such a relief. 

They spend their days cleaning house. They sit beside each other at dinner. They share private conversations. It feels like having a friend. A good friend. One that he can spend time with.  _Are you my friend?_  he asks to himself, knowing she’s listening. He doesn’t know if it’s entirely appropriate to ask. 

“I’m your friend,” she agrees. He smiles. That night, when Steve keeps smiling like a loon, he tells him just that. 

“Whatchu smiling for you punk?” 

He’s right. 

Steve hugs him. 

Then he cries. 

* * *

They go for a walk the next day. Just Wanda and him. Before they go, Bucky shaves. He brushes his hair. He looks in the mirror. He almost recognizes the face that looks back. 

Sam arches a brow when he watches them go. Clint crosses his arm like an overprotective father. Steve just smiles. Looks like he might hug him again. Sharon holds him back. 

They leave, just as the Ant-guy starts asking an inappropriate question. 

Wanda and Bucky walk about the field near the house they’ve procured. They move side by side. He still huddles into his jacket, she walks like a queen. 

She reminds him of Peggy. Of Peggy and all her bravery. She looks at Bucky though. Looks at Bucky in a way Peggy never did. She smiles at him. She stays by his side. It’s so nice. 

So unbelievably nice. 

His cheeks feel warm when he realizes what he’s thinking of. He shies away somewhat, fearful she’s heard him. 

She doesn’t react. Instead. She takes him by the hand. She asks if he’d like to fly again. He thinks of falling. Thinks of the pain that split his arm. That nearly ended his life. 

“I won’t let you fall.” 

She doesn’t. She swivels her fingers. She lifts him up into the air. He grins immediately. Weightless joy flutters about him. Peace, and relaxation combine into one. He likes this. He really really  _likes_ this. 

He laughs as she moves him. She never lifts him too high. Never too high at all. Just enough so that he can pretend that he’s actually flying. 

He thinks of the flying car. The one Howard said he’d build but didn’t. Wanda starts laughing, the red lights flicker and she quickly sets him down before she loses control over her magic. He touches down. 

Wanda’s laughing. She’s laughing and — and snorting. She snorts indelicately, and he starts laughing too. They’re both laughing and it’s silly and ridiculous, and he thinks he likes this. Laughing. Laughing with someone new. Someone sweet. 

Her smile fades. “I’m not sweet,” she tells him softly. 

He flinches. He hadn’t meant to offend. He crosses his arms over his chest. Hunches forward. He apologizes. 

“No—no.” Wanda steps forward. She lifts a hand and presses it to his cheek. He lets her. He slowly lifts his eyes. Meets her own. 

She’s a mind witch. She can read his mind. She can show him his worst fears. She can see who and what he is. But…Bucky thinks she spends so much time looking at other people, she doesn’t understand herself. 

Doesn’t know how kind she actually is. Doesn’t know how wonderful she really is. 

Her eyes water slightly. “You really believe that, don’t you?” she asks him. 

It’s important to speak. Important to say what you mean. “Yes,” he tells her. 

She leans up on her toes. She presses her lips against his. His heart stutters in his chest. 

He could live another seventy years, and likely never feel as calm as he did just then. 

“Please don’t lie to me,” she requests, stepping away. 

“Okay,” he promises. 

And as they walk home, though his feet remained firmly on the ground, his heart felt free of turmoil and grief. Free of pain. For the rest of the day, his heart and soul felt entirely weightless. 

It's perfect. 


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dornishjedi asked:  
> Kiss Prompt: Bucky/Wanda same verse as your "first kiss" fill, his metal arm and/or fingers, so #13 neck would be the closest.

Bucky’s given the third degree the moment he gets back. “Don’t take advantage of her. Don’t break her heart. Don’t hurt her.” Clint glares at him. Ant-guy (what even  _is_ his name anyway? Bucky can’t remember. Shawn? Corey?) shifts about awkwardly. Sam lifts his eyes heavenward. 

Steve, the only normal human being in the bunch, nods to his assorted friends and then drags Bucky off. He takes him to his bedroom, and Bucky hugs his jacket closer to his body. He’s cold. Terribly cold. He just wants to go to sleep and ignore the present. 

“Look after yourself too, yeah?” Steve asks him. Bucky’s heart burns in his chest. Everyone worried about Wanda. But Steve worried about him. He smiles, wet and brittle. 

“She’s…nice.” Bucky murmurs softly. 

Steve’s expression is open. Sincere. Kind. He places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “So are you.” 

Bucky flushes. His face heats up and he tugs at his shirt sleeves.

_(”James Barnes what you fidgeting for? You get into another fight again?”_

_“No, Ma’am. I promise, Ma’am. I been good.”  He hides his bloody knuckles behind his back. Steve snickers even as he tries to wipe off the evidence of their latest escapade. Good. Like always - this is Steve’s fault.)_

Steve sits down on the bed, and Bucky shuffles over to sit next to him. He listens as Steve starts telling him a story. A silly little thing from their past. Something about Bucky’s first date. Bucky vaguely remembers the too big tie and the shoe-polish he’d stained all over his best trousers. 

Steve remembers Bucky’s mother throwing a fit, his father giving him his first shot of whiskey, and Bucky’s sisters telling him he looked like he’d come fresh off the boat. 

Bucky likes hearing these stories. Likes hearing Steve’s level of detail. Bucky might remember them, but these memories he’d lost the details of long before the fall. These memories he lost from age. Age and lack of reminiscence. 

Steve remembers enough for the both of them, and as Bucky listens - he wonders what kids these days liked to do for fun. Wondered what kind of dates boys and girls got up to. 

“People still go dancing?” Bucky asks softly. Steve tilts his head in consideration. “What am I saying…like you’d know.” The words don’t slip out maliciously. He’s hardly aware he’s speaking until they’re there. He flinches. 

Rude. He’d been so rude. 

Steve doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he laughs loudly and punches him in the shoulder. 

“I been on dates,” he drawled, accent thick and tantalizingly familiar. Home. Steve speaks and it reminds him of home. Home before the war. “And yeah, girls still like dancing. Though—”

“I’m gonna take her dancing.” 

“It’s a different kinda dancing,” Steve warns. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Bucky doesn’t think he’s been this determined in a long time. He doesn’t think he’s declared anything like this in a long time. Steve’s staring at him like he can’t quite believe it. Anxiety starts to wrap around Bucky’s body. He fidgets with his sleeves again. Eyes pulling towards the floor. 

_(The Asset does not make eye contact. The Asset does not talk back. The Asset—)_

“I’ll help,” Steve promises. 

Steve really was too good for him. 

* * *

It takes them weeks to prepare. Bucky’s uncomfortable with the whole process. He’s nervous and unsettled. They spend hours watching videos. Shoulder to shoulder. Memorizing the evolution of dance. They watch [Judson Laipply](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5B9H4l2vtgo7cAoExcFh-w) , they compare notes. 

Steve plays Lady, and Bucky twirls him about the room. 

Sam probably knows what they’re up to, but doesn’t ask. 

Clint still hates him. Has since he took Wanda out the first time. “You’re not her _father_ ,” Bucky snaps at him when Clint coughs loudly one night over dinner. Bucky and Wanda’s shoulders touched each other a moment too long, and apparently he took offense. 

“Leave it alone,” Wanda hisses as well. Clint backs down, but his ire is still ever present. 

Steve doesn’t care. He drafts Sharon and she helps Bucky with the finer points of modern dance, and Steve grins and applauds as Bucky practices harder and harder. 

He knows he doesn’t have to be perfect. Knows she won’t care. But he wants to be perfect. Wants to do this. 

And… _he loves to dance._

He’s missed this. Missed it so much it felt like he’d lost another limb. And now, metal arm and all, he’s reclaiming himself one step at a time. 

* * *

Bucky asks her out nice and proper. He shines his boots, he cuts his hair, he wears a nice shirt Steve found for him. He asks her if she’d like to go dancing, and she smiles like he’s never seen her smile. 

She reaches out, and takes his hand. “I’d love to.” 

* * *

They find a nice little place down by the strand. There’s food, and music, and drink. They don’t eat first. (”It’ll make you sick as can be, let me tell ya,” Bucky tells her. Wanda laughs. Maybe she saw the memory? It was a funny one if she did). 

They go out on the dance floor, and they dance. 

They dance, with her hand in his. They dance with her body against his. They dance, and his mind settles into steps and patterns. In pure unadulterated joy. 

Hydra never perverted this. Hydra never made the Winter Soldier dance. They only erased the memory. They didn’t burn darkness over light. 

They didn’t take this away completely. 

Bucky holds her and he rocks with her. He wraps his arms around her. Metal arm hard and stiff against her back. She sways into it. She rolls her hips and puts her arms around his neck. He feels as though he’s on fire. He burns before her, and she takes him how he is. 

Over and over. No compromises. 

He leans down. Kisses her lips. Her cheek. Her throat. 

His metal fingers tangle in her hair. They hold her clothes in place. She looks him in the eye and she grins. 

“Let’s go someplace quiet.” 

Bucky said it before. He’ll say it again. 

_He loves to dance._

* * *

They end the night in a way Clint wholeheartedly would disapprove of. 

She lays out before him. He traces his fingers up her beautiful flesh. He whispers truths into her ear.  _Wonderful, Amazing, Nifty, Deliriously Awesome_

She laughs. She laughs as he kisses her. Worships her. Gives her everything he is. She laughs, and she moans. She gasps. She holds onto him. She undulates before him. 

Sex and dance go hand in hand, and Bucky laps at her. He kneels before her, supplicant and faithful. Her hand holds onto his. Her fingers entangle his. Steel on flesh. 

Her eyes meet his. 

Red lights wrap around them. And they float up above the bed. He pushes in against her. Floating, flying, dancing, dreaming. 

She tilts her head back, and red lights flash all around them. 

Bucky sees a vision in his head. 

Wanda in his arms, dancing on a field they’ve never been to. Someplace bright and beautiful. 

There’s no darkness there. There’s no fear. There’s only peace. Peace, and family. 

It reminds Bucky of home.


End file.
